A Kind of Sad Love
by Traumaddict
Summary: Sequel to the Blood on Your Hands. "I think a fifteen percent chance of survival is a pretty terrifying ordeal." Sara heard the despair in her own voice. She'd lost so many friends to crimes, too many, and she had never imagined, not even in her worst nightmares, that the adorable IT girl might be next.


A Kind of Sad Love

It didn't surprise him when, hours after John's departure, Sara Lance joined him in the Foundry. Lian Yu had jaded her in the same way as it had done to him, scorching the humanity out of her bones. She had a higher headcount than he did, the blood on her hands denser, but that had never seemed to matter because she understood in a way that neither Laurel nor Felicity could even begin to comprehend. However, as far as similarities went, that was the length of them. Nonetheless, he commended Diggle (drank to it from the bottle of Kristov he'd looted from Verdant) because if there was anyone in his life that could make him see reason, it would be Sara.

He had listened to her slip down the stairs, heard the rails rattle as she took them two at a time, husky voice falling flat when his own – weighed by words that damned him far more thoroughly than his actions had ever done – cut through her chatter and echoed into the Foundry's dank shadows. Then, the recording stopped, the silence lasting merely a beat before he booted it back up again. She hadn't said anything to that besides a deflated "_oh, Ollie_," as she sank into the stool opposite from him, her blonde curls framing the face that had haunted him for months. The cut of her features were so _vulnerable_. No one would believe that she was just as doomed as him.

"Laurel's in hospital," he pointed out and then took a long, draining swig from the bottle. The liquid scalded his throat, sliding down the already raw muscle in a rush of heat. If he tried to stand, he had a feeling he'd collapse.

"I know. I just came back from there," she admitted. "She's going to be okay."

The things she didn't want to mention, not yet anyway, filled the Foundry as he hung his head back and sighed. His relief relaxed his entire body; his shoulders sagged and he finally let go of the Kristov. If it weren't for his finger on a familiar Galaxy beside Felicity's monitors, hitting replay at the end of each recording, she might've believed he was going to be okay— that Digg had overreacted. But, she wasn't going to lie, not even to herself, as he seemed so content in doing. He was far from okay. In fact, he was downright miserable. He looked pale, gaunt, which was hardly logical because he'd only been down there for a handful of hours, and his mouth trembled every time he brought the glass to his lips.

"I'm glad she's getting better," he conceded, at last. "I was... I was scared that I was going to lose her,"

"Clearly not as scared as you are of losing Felicity." The words had been blunt, abrupt, and she hadn't actually meant to say them— they'd gushed out at the images his confession had raised: Laurel hunched over in her bed, tears streaming down her face as she retold the grisly details about what had happened to her and Felicity. She had very little heart to spare, but her sister's comments had broken what was left.

"Why would I be scared of losing Felicity?" He tried playing it cool. She could see that he was trying his hardest, but the devastation hadn't drained out of his eyes the second she'd mentioned their friend, their _partner_.

"I think a fifteen percent chance of survival is a pretty terrifying ordeal." Sara heard the despair in her own voice. She'd lost so many friends to crimes, too many, and she had never imagined, not even in her worst nightmares, that the adorable IT girl might be next.

Oliver inhaled sharply and jerked forward. His eyes were wide and the Kristov sank from his hand. It didn't smash, didn't even crack, but the fluid ran out across the concrete floor, sliding through his bare toes. "Digg said that she had a twenty percent chance." In the background, his voice rang through the Foundry like a metronome, blaring from the Galaxy's shaky speakers.

"In the last few hours, her condition has declined." Sara's voice caught and she had to try twice, opening and closing her mouth like a gaping fish, before she got the next words out: "The doctor told us that, realistically, she won't make it to tonight. It'll take a miracle for that to happen because she's sustained too much internal haemorrhaging and apparently, her brain had been without oxygen for awhile before she was found."

Sara carried on talking; outlining the statistics and facts that made up Felicity's slowly deteriorating life. But he didn't hear much beyond 'she won't take it to tonight.' The words echoed through his mind, becoming a slow, gradual throb that made both his head and chest ache. Since he'd arrived at the Foundry, he'd wondered: "why didn't I protect her?" He'd made her a promise, told her that he'd protect her. Yet, in the end, his vow was in pieces at his feet because she'd wanted to protect him instead. Dragging his hand down his face, he exhaled shakily, deciding that this mile long blind spot he had for Laurel had to end— he was going to lose someone important, someone whom had been the only real balm in his life after he'd returned from Lian Yu, because loving Laurel was so much easier.

He hadn't realised he was crying until Sara's arms were around him. With his breath hitching, he grabbed her by her waist and squeezed. "I love her."

"I know," she murmured against his shoulder, running her blunt nails through his shorn hair.

"I never told her..."

"She knows." Sara promised, but he heard the doubt. Glancing to the Galaxy on his left, he didn't really blame her.

* * *

Her ward was sterile in a way that the Foundry, even with its steel cabinets and medical bay, had never been. The walls were plastered with the kind of bleak, brocade wallpaper only hospitals purchased and his shoes squeaked against the cream linoleum. She was tempered in the centre of the room, tucked under sheets as pale as her. Her entire body was strung up (ironic, he knew) to more transparent tubes than he could count and thread crossed over a part of her head where her blonde hair had been shorn. The heart monitor had been wheeled beside her, filling the otherwise silent room with a hushed hum. It had taken almost an hour of negotiation on Sara's part before he'd finally conceded and agreed to see Felicity, but his resolve, a flimsy thing as it was, crumbled entirely as he recognised the delicate brunette at her side.

"Ollie..." Laurel Lance exhaled. She looked dishevelled in a cashmere robe, leggings and ugg boots he'd never seen before. He could see the bandages that streaked her upper body, peering out from beneath the sloppily tied layers. Her features, well-tanned and clean of cosmetics, were weary as she observed him from her perch at Felicity's bedside. Her eyes in particular bothered him.

Slowly, he pushed the door shut behind him and just stood there. "What are you doing here?"

"I..." She looked down at Felicity's face, riddled with purpling bruises and needle-thin cuts. When he stepped closer, he noticed that Laurel was holding her hand. "I didn't want her to be alone... Mr. Diggle was here earlier but he looked like he needed rest... I told him to go home and I'll watch over her,"

He approached the other chair, stationed on the bed's left side, and sank into it. He was going to regret asking but he needed to know. "What happened?"

"She saved my life, that's what." Laurel swallowed. "The Puppeteer said only one of us was going to live and we had to make the choice." Her mouth began trembling. As he watched her, whatever was left of his heart turned to ash. "I was so terrified... I had no idea what to do, but she never even hesitated. She just _did it_. She told him that I was the one that was going to live and before I could protest, I was knocked out. The next thing I knew, I woke up in hospital and my saviour was about to pay for that with her life."

He could see Sara in Laurel. A dam had burst in her life and when she'd walked away from the aftermath, almost drowning in the process, something had changed in her that seemed to deflate her resilience but erect a wall that showed him she was going to rise from the ashes like a phoenix. At what price, Oliver mused, he didn't know. One thing he was sure of, however, was that he didn't want to know that price. "She did it because she knew how much you mean to me..."

"I don't deserve that sort of kindness. Especially from a stranger," she said, lifting her head to look at him. Her eyes were wet with tears. "How can you even look at me, Ollie? If it wasn't for me, she'd—"

"I'm not saying that it's okay because nothing is okay about this whole situation," interrupted Oliver, turning his attention to Felicity. "But, I'm happy I didn't lose you. I just... I just never imagined that losing her would be my kryptonite,"

"Kryptonite...?" she parroted, confused.

He smiled knowingly, despair animating his face. "I couldn't protect her from the Puppeteer but I'll do that now. Better late than never, right...?" He sounded hollow to even his own ears. "Go back to your ward. Your father is going to be pissed if he finds you gone."

"Hey—"

"Laurel, it's okay." Rising, Oliver came around to rest his hands on her swollen cheeks. "I forgive you,"

She stared into his eyes and without missing a beat, wondered: "But, do you forgive yourself?"

* * *

_Initially, I hadn't really planned on continuing "the Blood on Your Hands," and to be honest, I feel like this sequel hasn't done it any justice. But, still, a sequel was highly demanded, and explanations were equally desired. So, I conceded. Hopefully, it cleared up any misunderstandings "the Blood on Your Hands" might have raised, particularly the ever-popular "well-written piece but why is this filed under Felicity/Oliver when it's clearly Laurel/Oliver?" Nevertheless, I hoped this fueled readers' masochistic need for overly angst-y stories. Again, if you were hoping for anything even remotely happy, I am sorry to disappoint you once again._

_P.S: I half-assed the editing stage, so apologies for any grammatical errors._

_- Traumaddict_


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